


Inconvenient

by pawsdash



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Afghanistan, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Flashbacks, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Tony, M/M, Medicine, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mild Language, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Psychiatric medication, Steve Feels, Tony Feels, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, Triggers, possibly triggering content about psychiatric medications, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 15:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15122696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawsdash/pseuds/pawsdash
Summary: To be honest, Tony isn't afraid of taking medication for his mental illness; no, he's mostly just afraid of himself.





	Inconvenient

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! SO I will warn you all that this is extremely self-indulgent and is mostly just used for venting. This is a little short about Tony struggling with taking psychiatric medication to help with his PTSD.
> 
> I personally take a LOT of psychiatric medications and have tried almost every one in the book. It can be a SUPER triggering topic for some people and is usually something that's really difficult to deal with. In this fic, Tony is afraid to take medication- however, a lot of times people are afraid to be WITHOUT medication, which I don't think is talked about enough. Medication, for some people, might be defined as being "weak" in their minds- but for some others, it's a validation. It's like "if I take medication, that means that my illness is valid and I'm worthy of treatment." I'm moreso in the latter boat.
> 
> So with that being said, this is mostly a vent fic regarding struggles with medication as well as the kind of "ugly" parts of mental illness, focusing on Steve's perspective as an outsider. This is extremely vent-y and has no real clear ending. This also is written just like all of my others have been which is literally me sitting down for ten minutes and vomiting out everything, then posting it immediately without proofreading or considering if I should post it or not- so bear with me if it's rough around the edges.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> Focused around Tony's struggle with taking psychiatric medication, so if you're sensitive around that topic then it may be best to avoid this fic. Describes a mild panic attack and Tony has been found in the aftermath of a PTSD flashback. Talks about "purposefully" triggering oneself. Quite angsty.

He found Tony in the bathroom on the 34th floor. By the time that he had prowled each floor from the top-down in search for the man, his flashback had clearly already passed, leaving him a limp and exhausted heap. At first, all he saw were Tony’s bare feet, positioned sluggishly on the ground to hold himself up. Upon pushing the door open further, the smaller body was splayed out over the tile floor, propped up and back pressed to the clawfoot tub. Tony hadn’t closed the door completely for a reason; not only did he know that Steve would have broken down the door to find him, he also wanted to be found. 

“Tony,” Steve murmured gently, a broken expression in his sleepy eyes. It was far too late into the night for him to be awake. “Tony, c’mon, get up,” he urged, looking down on the mess of brunette hair which was now wild and matted from being pulled at. No response came. With a resigned sigh, Steve seemed to surrender his intentions and sunk down next to his lover. It took him a while to convince his old bones to kneel on the hard ground, finally settling himself there and turning his head to face Tony despite that the other wouldn’t meet his gaze and instead remained far-off. “Tony… I told you that you shouldn’t have decreased the dose of your meds.” 

“Why not?” Tony shot back, staring blankly ahead. “Is the real me inconvenient?” His rugged tone was full of venom, voice having been completely stripped raw from hysterical crying. Now, all that remained of the meltdown came in the form of hoarseness and reddened, teary eyes. 

“Tony,” Steve sighed, eyes falling downward into his lap. “You know that’s not true.” And of course Tony knew that it wasn’t true; Steve loved him with every fibre of his super-soldier being. 

“Still feels like it, though,” he whispered mostly to himself, biting down hard on his lip as if to ward off another impending burst of tears. His fingers reached feebly for Steve’s and the other responded by fitting his palm firmly into Tony’s. They stayed like that for a while, Tony’s eyes having fallen to stare at their interlaced hands. “Jarvis, lights.” He said simply, releasing a breath of relief when the bathroom was plunged into a steady darkness, only the feeble light from the ajar door casting a glow on their feet. 

“What…” Steve began, words careful and unsure. “What was it about this time?” He questioned gently, shifting closer to Tony so that their shoulders pressed into each other. 

Tony barked out a laugh, shaking his head. He sniffed, struggling to draw in a bout of tears that seemed to leap toward his eyelids. “It’s funny,” he replied, laughing disdainfully at his own pain. “B-because they’re holding me under, right? And usually, when it’s _those_ flashbacks about _them_ , I’m fucking scared of anything that even _looks like_ those goddamn tubs of water but today,” he chuckled again and released their interlaced fingers, patting the heel of his hand against the surface of the bathtub behind their backs, tears falling freely over his cheeks at such a point. It terrified Steve when Tony got like this- and it certainly wasn’t uncommon ground. “I-it’s like I wanted it to happen, Steve.” And then he was really crying, letting his face fall into his hands and becoming wracked with spasms which any other person would mistake for sobs- but, no, he was laughing.

“Tony,” Steve urged, nudging at Tony’s shoulder. “Tony, stop that.” An uncomfortable dread settled in his chest, pulling tightly at his ribs. His arm slung around the man’s trembling frame and he helped Tony toward him, pulling his head against Steve’s chest. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? W-we’re gonna figure it out, we’ll look at the meds again or-“

“Stop,” Tony demanded suddenly, sniffling. “D-don’t even say that. This is all me, Steve- all the meds are good for is to mask it.” 

“You stop,” Steve countered, voice soft to contrast Tony’s urgent one. “This might be a part of you, but it’s not all of you. And don’t try arguing with me because I’m not gonna have this conversation when you’re not thinking straight. We both know it’s not gonna solve anything.” His tone was still quiet, but his orderly military mannerisms had begun to take over. He knew, after being with Tony for so long, that people needed different things when they were panicking- what Tony needed was to feel safe, so he provided that steady hand by remaining confident and level-headed. 

“I-I just wanted to lower the dose,” Tony mumbled tearfully, voice muffled by Steve’s chest. “I’m sick of feeling… like that.” Steve didn’t have to ask Tony to elaborate; he could fill it in himself: weak, dependent, sane, typical, normal, _good._

“You’re not your meds, Tony,” he stated calmly, though his heart broke at the thought that Tony would think such things. “You’re not weak for taking them- you’re actually pretty strong for fighting what you’re afraid of.”

Tony laughed at that. “What? W-what am I afraid of? Chemical imbalance? Pharmaceuticals?”

“Yourself.” 

Tony shut up immediately as the realization sunk in. Steve half expected him to bite back a retort or shrink into himself but instead, Tony just moved closer to Steve for comfort. Steve began to gently comb his fingers through the tangled brown strands of Tony’s hair, careful not to pull to hard; even when he did, Tony didn’t even move. It was a while before he even spoke again, silently willing the tears to clear away from his cheeks and for the pain in his chest to ease up. It was a while before these things came to fruition and Tony felt his breaths evening out, steadying enough that he could even begin to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sniffing. 

“Don’t be,” Steve replied immediately, laying a soft kiss to Tony’s forehead. “We’re gonna figure this out.”

In the end, Tony ended up having drifted off despite the uncomfortable situation that they were in on the bathroom floor. Steve assumed that Tony had been so tired from both the flashback and the panic attack that even the slightest bit of comfort had lulled him to a much-needed rest. It kind of saddened Steve how much even a little bit of affection could impact Tony; it was, without a doubt, simply because he didn’t expect it. Steve scooped the other up from the hard floor, carrying him to the elevator and back to their room, not without stirring Tony slightly- though he didn’t protest. Finally, he gently placed the man on the soft bed and curled himself next to him.

“Thank you,” Tony whispered sleepily.

Steve didn’t have to respond.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: odetopsychiatry
> 
> Go give me angsty, fluffy, hurt/comfort, or whatever-else prompts


End file.
